


The Little Red Bird

by CountessElena



Category: Elfquest
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 00:57:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessElena/pseuds/CountessElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Recognition fic, by request -- Rayek/Ember.  Quick; there is not much time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Red Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rheasilvia (Sylvia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvia/gifts).



> rheasilvia made a charity donation fic request to me for this pairing -- Rayek/Ember. She told me that she had never gotten ahold of the Elfquest comics past "Kings of the Broken Wheel" and thus hadn't read the more recent comics. In my opinion, that is really just as well, so I went with it.

 

Rayek dreamed, and Rayek was never alone in his dreams.

Tonight, he stood in the depths of the forest at the feet of Blue Mountain, and Winnowill was young and soft-skinned. She rested in the branches of a blooming cherry tree. Her green eyes glowed as she sent to him:

– There is a little red bird in your hands, my lord.

It was true. His hands were cupped against his chest. He did not look down, but he could feel the beating of soft wings between his palms.

– May I see it?

“No,” Rayek muttered aloud. In dreams, he was as muzzy and disordered as anyone else, but he could feel the terrible stab of some knowledge. He must get away from her; he must get this little bird away from her and keep it safe . . .

– Let me see.

Her cheeks hollowed; her jaw sharpened; her form extended, faded, wound out of the shape of the tree, and as she changed, her sending strengthened.

 _I am dreaming_ , said Rayek to himself, _but her spirit is real, and so is the bird. Wake me – something please wake me – let me –_

“Help!” he shouted, and sat up straight.

Rayek felt the cool grasp of Ekuar's dry, wrinkled hand on his wrist, and knew at last that he was awake. He was awake, and he was in the third day of the worst three days of his life, the three days since he had recognized Ember.

Ekuar sent him a gentle reassurance.

– Poor brownskin. Do not lose heart now. Venka is near.

– She might have had it from me, answered Rayek to Ekuar. I should never have slept.

“Eh, la,” said Ekuar mildly. He rose from the damp, spongy ground, and pulled Rayek to his feet; Rayek swayed miserably. “Where there is life, there has to be waking, there has to be sleep; and you know better than anyone else how badly one may go without the other. It was worth the chance.”

Rayek shook out his long hair, and tried to turn his back on the sending of Winnowill.

– Good morning, my love! Is there anything you would like to share with me today?

Rayek moaned aloud, and rubbed his temples. He could feel the shape of Ember's soul name within him. He ached to think it, to send it, to say it – but he knew very well that if he let himself do those things, _she_ would have it, too.

Rayek was Winnowill's prison, Winnowill's other mind and Winnowill's other body. If he let himself think of Ember's soul name, Winnowill would have it from him, just as easily as she had every other thought in his mind. And if she had a soul name to call – a thing of such power – could he really stop her from using his sending as her own, to call it out? He did not know. Perhaps she could; perhaps she could not. But if she could, there would be no end to the torment she would inflict on the daughter of Cutter.

 

When Rayek was a boy, and spent his days training with Savah in magic and thought, she sometimes gave him a command he could not obey.

“Whatever you do,” she said, “do not think of a little red bird today!”

He remembered her gentle laughter at the confusion on his face. Once she had said that to him, what else _could_ he think about but a little red bird? Some days she told him not to think of an orange cat, or a striped zwoot – it never mattered; the game was meant to teach him discipline of mind. It was always a difficult exercise for him. His nature made him worry at matters, chip away at thoughts.

Now, Savah's old game of the little red bird was the only thing that allowed him to save Ember's soul name from Winnowill. Whenever the word stirred in his soul, or on his tongue, he thought hard of a little red bird, and he thought of nothing else. He imagined every detail of its fledging, every scratch on its beak, every twitch of its neck – anything rather than allow himself to think of Ember's soul name.

– And all this trouble from you for that wretched blond boy's spawn. The one he got on your oldest dearest love.

Winnowill was nothing if not perceptive. Her sending was as sharp as a thought of his own.

– Let go of it! Say it to her, say it to me, do what you will. You have enough troubles in your spirit. Who knows that better than me? And besides, what do you care? You never even liked the girl!

Rayek snarled, hissed between his teeth, and shook his head. She was right. He never had liked her – how should he? Ember had never liked _him_.

When Ember was a child, Rayek hardly spoke to her. He only remembered her as a half-wild she-cub clambering on her mother's lap, eclipsed by her brother's glow of power. Then, after he took the Palace – after he took her and her brother across that sea of time – her face was never soft towards him. She never looked at him for long, and whenever she did, she stared at him with the hard ice eyes and the set jaw of her father, under a mask of her mother's beauty . . .

Rayek shuddered to think of it. It was often the case that elves met and loved and mated across long generations, but Ember had the eyes of everyone who had ever been angry at him. How could he bear that gaze?

 

No one was to fight Recognition, and Ember, too, had suffered, or so Ekuar had told him in confidence. She herself would never have said such a thing to Rayek. There was nothing for it but to come forward.

The Wolfriders who knew him of old acknowledged him with sharp nods or growls, but there were a few children and young people he did not recognize. Two children in particular, a boy and a girl with pale brown skin and tangled blonde hair, clung to Ember's side as much as they could.

“This is my son, Feldspar, the Blood of Twelve Chiefs, and this is my daughter Melilot.”

Rayek smiled and sent his greetings to the children, who did not respond. Melilot scowled. The two looked young enough to try to please their mother by showing her that they didn't like this stranger.

The eyes of the two children glowed as Ember gave them a closed sending. It must have been an order to make themselves scarce. The girl grabbed the boy's hand, and with one more dark look at Rayek, the pair scuttled away.

“They are beautiful,” said Rayek

“They are Mender's. We are still mates,” said Ember. “He used his powers. He made them for us. For all the Wolfriders. Do you understand? Our people do not need your blood.”

“I know that very well,” said Rayek, his eyes dropped. It had been years since he bothered to wince at the sting of a Wolfrider's words; he simply bore them, for what they were worth.

“What I might need,” said Ember quietly, “or might not need, is a different concern.”

“But that too is your tribe's concern – ”

“Rayek,” said she, in a monotone of exhaustion, “if I ever hear a word out of you about what a tribe needs, I will black your eye.”

At this, Rayek chewed his tongue; and he knew that Winnowill was laughing at him.

“Well,” he said eventually. “We will settle this business, then. As soon as we can.”

 

It was, of course, Venka who had the power to set matters right between them. No one else had the ability to hold back Winnowill, to bear her spirit for the time it would take to settle the matter of Recognition. Rayek had borne a good deal of his life's troubles out of his own folly, but not much had been as bitter as approaching his own daughter to ask her for help with his Recognition – to ask her, in effect, to give him an hour alone in his own head for joining.

Of course Venka did not say anything unpleasant. She never did. She only looked at him with her great level eyes, as he shared the story with her, and finally said, “I see.” Then, after a long pause,

“I think I can manage her for time enough. Not much time, of course.”

“Much time isn't needed,” said Rayek, and felt the blood rise to his cheeks as he said it. Hurriedly, he added,

“It's my keeping of her soul-name that could hurt her. Winnowill must not have it. If she gets it from me, she will find a way to hurt Ember with it. I need . . . I need you to try to erase it from my mind, somehow. To take it away from me.”

Venka fixed her golden stare on her father.

“Can't _you_ keep it safe from her?”

Rayek flinched. Venka was her mother's daughter.

“Today, tomorrow, yes,” he said, “but a year from now? A thousand years from now?”

“Well,” said Venka at last, “I could try. But it might hurt your mind badly. And if it does that, Winnowill will have her chance at all of us – not only Ember.”

Rayek only inclined his head.

 

“Enough,” said Ember. “Enough of this at last.”

They sat in a dry, dusty space behind some great boulders scattered on the plain. The boulders leaned enough into each other to form a sort of cave, although it offered no shelter. Venka was as far away from them as she felt she could be, but not as far as Rayek could have wished.

There had been no ritual to Venka’s magic. She had simply grabbed the hands of the two of them, Rayek and Ember, and pressed them together as hard as she could. Their twelve fingers braided together.

At that moment, both Rayek and Ember saw a terrible flash in their skulls, white-yellow and then burning black, like an unguarded look at the full daystar.

“Take it,” she said in a wavering voice. “There it is, you are safe. Take the time, it is all I have!”

Ember clutched her head and whimpered with the shock of it. Rayek bore it better; now, however, he felt a terrible absence at his back. Winnowill’s great weight was gone from him, and suddenly, he hated that.

“Enough,” said Ember.

“Enough,” agreed Rayek, and took her by the shoulders. Ember drew back from him and snarled with full teeth.

“What is it now? Do you want the thing done or don’t you?”

Ember seized his chin and set her eyes level with his. Rayek steeled himself against whatever it was she would send or say to him next. Here it was, the thing he had dreaded most, the full heat of that anger from her father’s eyes in her mother’s face.

– I hate you. I have always hated you.

Rayek eased himself somewhat. These words resounded in his head, as any sending did, but there was in fact no hate behind it. Ember did not send with malice, now; she was –

– I am afraid of you. That is why. We all are afraid of you. What are you, Rayek? It pleases you to be good now, and protect us from her, and so you’ve gone on to do it. How much longer will that please you? None of us can know that. What do you suppose? All my life I have been frightened of what you may decide to do. Do you think I will not shrink back when you touch me?

Rayek sat for some time. At last, he could offer nothing to this. He simply gave to Ember the thing he had been hiding, from himself and from Winnowill, the single thing of Ember’s own.

– K'chaiya. K’chaiya!

Ember sagged, as if suddenly drugged.

– Don’t! Don’t . . . it hurts to have my soul-name so sudden and hard, and from _you_. . .

– K’chaiya. I am sorry. Come and see.

He reached for her again.

– Be inside me. We are Recognized. I am nothing that is hidden from you. See for yourself that I am sorry. See I cannot hurt you.

Ember shut her eyes, and let him take her body to his. Rayek, too, shut his eyes.

It seemed that they stood together in that great black place where Rayek was never alone, except now, now that Venka was protecting him. Ember’s spirit drew close to his, against the void.

– You are K’chaiya. You are this that I have hid from her. By day and by night I have hidden this word from her that I bear about with me. I am sorry, K’chaiya. I am tired. I must ask you to take your soul-name from me.

About his head and and shoulders, a bright mist gathered and swirled, then streamed into his cupped hands.

– This is it, that I carry with me. I must ask you to take it.

– Rayek . . .

– I cannot keep it. I cannot guard it. I am less than I should be. I am less of a warrior than you.

Ember did not appear to him now as an image of her father or her mother, but as herself – wary, wild, wolf-gentle. Although the flesh seemed impossibly far from them, he felt that her body warmed to his, welcomed the touch of him.

– I have here your little red bird. It is your own. I should never have had it. Will you take it from me?

– Rayek, I want you to . . .

– _Take it._ Take it. Take everything of yours from me.

Ember took from him the little red ghost in his hand; and a great and bitter joy bloomed between their bodies then, as they joined, and cried out to each other.

 

When the thing was done, Ember wanted to lie in Rayek’s arms, but he stirred from her and called aloud,

“Venka? Venka, is it that you can hear me?”

There was a distant rustling in the tall grass, the faint noise of an elf approaching with heavy, unguarded steps. Ember pulled herself away from Rayek, and hastened to dress.

“It is done,” Rayek said, his great eyes as light as topaz. “I know it. She has what is hers. It does not haunt me any longer.”

“Well enough,” said Ember, in a strange, dry tone.

“Enough of this?” said Venka at last, as she staggered close to them. “Yes?”

“Yes,” said Rayek. “Yes, you have done very well. Both of you.”

Venka and Ember shared a glance that said much. Rayek, who was dressing carefully and with great attention to the lacing of his pantaloons, did not see it.

“Chieftess, you may leave us if you wish,” said Venka. “It will not be easy on my father to put the weight of the Black Snake’s spirit back on his shoulders. We may need some time.”

Ember’s eyes met Venka’s.

– No. I will stay. Such as he is, I will stay with him just now.

Ember might have closed this sending away from Rayek, but she did not, and he received it in full. Rayek dropped the laces of his shirt. Venka nodded to Ember.

– Father. Take her hands. She will help us.

Rayek took Ember’s hands in his, and drew from her strength; and she did.

 

– My lord and my love and my master, I missed you. Would you like to hear what I said to your daughter, when we were together?

– I am certain you will tell me, Winnowill, answered Rayek, with no great emotion. Indeed, as he traveled with Ekuar along the plains, he was much lighter of mind than he had been in many days.

“We will send word when there is time enough for you to come and see my newborn,” Ember had said to him. There was real warmth in her voice, but Rayek heard also what her words did not say. _To come and see_ my _newborn_ , he thought. But how else should it be? How could he raise a child on his road? And how could he expect to stay – ?

There was not much ceremony when Rayek and Ekuar departed from the Wolfriders; food stores were thin, and there was little to feast with. But once Venka and Ember returned to the camp, they all seemed gentler towards him. Even Ember’s little ones were not unhappy to sit close to him – or at least to Ekuar, who always charmed children – and listen to their stories of Ember’s wild young days.

– They hate you, of course. They’ll always hate you. And so will your new child.

At these words of Winnowill’s, Rayek felt a sudden surge of peace. It was a comfort simply to know what a liar she was. He replied almost playfully.

– Will she hate me as much as Venka does, do you suppose?

– What do you know of what is in Venka’s heart? Have you been inside her, my love? I have. I can tell you what I found in her . . .

Rayek felt a great softness in himself, a pulling away. Winnowill’s needling words went on inside him, just as they always had and always would, but now, in a small, delicate way, he was outside her power. Now he had known the spirit of another who was worth the knowing. It might be enough to endure forever with. It would have to be.

“Ah, look here. Take my hand,” Rayek said to Ekuar, as Winnowill shouted inside of him; and he helped the old elf across the edge of a collapsed prairie-dog burrow, well hidden in the tall grass.

 

 


End file.
